He couldn’t stand it any longer, the itch was becoming so bad even the people he considered friends started to appeal to him. It had been almost six months since he killed the last woman. It was turning into another hot summer, and the women walked around in little to nothing to keep from having a heat stroke.
As he moved through the streets, he looked for the perfect model. The daylight was starting to fade as he looked from one woman to another. Most of the men didn’t give him a second look. The air was hot, almost on the side of smothering.
When he came to Our Lady of Mercy RC Church, he stopped. He could hear singing from inside. It was like a string pulled him to the church. He didn’t really believe in God but he did believe in a higher power. When he entered the church, no one noticed. The pastor was in the pulpit giving a sermon about being faithful to one another. He almost laughed at the idea of this man wanting people to be faithful. It wasn’t human nature to do such things.
He found a spot in the back to listen to the words. They would sing a song then he would talk some more. He thought about confessing to the priest about his sins. A chuckle slipped past his lips at the thought. No God would forgive the things he had done, even if he did believe for a moment he had done anything wrong.
The song ”Swing Low Sweet Chariot” always moved him but he didn’t sing with the rest of the people in the church. He looked around and decided that sitting in the church wasn’t going to change the fact he wanted to create again. He could and would find a model. From what he had found out, Kissney was well enough to be back on the force.
Could he leave this place and hurt someone? The first thought in his mind was yes. The second was no he needed to stop sinning like that. It didn’t matter to him if he hurt people. The pastor was done preaching it would seem. How long had he sat in that pew? He didn’t know, but he liked to listen to the music. As he left the church, he looked around to see if he could find a model in the area. He didn’t want to hurt a clean cut woman who wasn’t asking for it. So many of his models offered their bodies for money. He wandered the streets looking for the right woman, but tonight they all seemed to be working on their backs. He wondered if he’d find someone when he stopped to sit on a bench and observe. A woman sat down next to him in a hot pink mini skirt. The tube top she was wearing didn’t hide much of her huge breasts. Long black hair almost touched her ass and he was sure it was fake.
“Hey, sugar, do you like what you see?”
“Maybe, are you offering?”
“I’ve been working my ass off tonight. Yes I’m offering.”
He wanted to roll his eyes at the woman but stopped before he did. This woman had no idea who she was talking with.
“Aren’t you worried I might be that killer?”
“No, they say he’s this big guy who kills women.”
“You’re a woman.”
“That I am, honey. So do you want some of this or not?”
He took in the way she looked and decided she would do. He nodded as he stood. He went to the trees that happened to be by the bench. Would someone see them this close to the street? He didn’t know but he’d take care of this woman fast. He pinned her to the tree kissing her neck. He had slipped on the gloves right before he walked into the trees. The whore wouldn’t see it coming, he was sure of that. Her hands worked at his pants but he stopped her. When he looked up at her again, he smiled slightly.
“You picked the wrong john.”
With those words, he sidestepped, dragging the knife across her throat. She didn’t have a chance to scream. As she tried to stop the bleeding, he watched her grab at the dirt. He watched as she died, the light going out of her eyes. He leaned her on the tree making sure that her four inch heals dug into the earth. He then set to work on the canvas. Cutting into her large breasts to see two implants fall to the ground. This woman had doubled the implants to make her breasts even bigger.
He fixed the implants in her arms to appear like she were cradling them like a child. Then he cut her across her belly letting her intestines slip out and over her front. The second set of implants, he placed into her stomach. Once he was done, he stepped back to look at her. Like a mother holding her child. He didn’t want to cut any more. She was perfect the way she was. Taking the second set of gloves off, he tossed them to the ground. With his still gloved hands he took the money out of her purse.
He closed her purse putting it beside her body. He smiled at the way she looked then left her in the trees. He was careful to check for boot prints. No blood trail this time. He walked away to clean up, which is what he normally did. He didn’t like to be this dirty with whore blood. In the water of the Bronx River, he cleaned off the blood and threw the knife away. This river was infested with the bodies and weapons of murderers.
Would Kissney love the idea of this model? Would Levi look sick at the scene? If they ever caught him, would they give him pictures of his models? He shook the water off as he moved away from the river. It wasn’t the cleanest water to wash in but it would work.